


Make Your Move

by c_r_roberts



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_r_roberts/pseuds/c_r_roberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Katniss Everdeen is her high school's star soccer player. And Peeta Mellark is her assistant coach. (As first seen on tumblr.)</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Move

"I think I'm going to die," Katniss moans as she lays on the ground, on the edge of the field, sprawling her arms and legs out to her sides. Her muscles ache, her lungs are on fire, and her practice jersey is damp with sweat. Coach Abernathy worked them hard after their loss yesterday. It was punishment. And after four years of dealing with the world's surliest soccer coach, Katniss is well aware that they were supposed to hate every minute of that practice.

"I can't believe he made us finish with ladders," Madge, her co-captain and teammate grumbles from her place next to Katniss, where she sits, slurping her water gratefully.

It's half way through October and playoffs are just around the corner, but today, it's hot enough outside that it feels like August.

Katniss closes her eyes, unmoving from her position in the grass. Although even if she wanted to move, she's not sure if she could at the moment. She's exhausted.

"Probably shouldn't have let that girl by you then," Katniss quips. They'd lost 1-0 yesterday. And Madge is their all-state sweeper.

She feels Madge's cleat kick her lightly in her shin.

"Says the girl who took twelve shots and made zero."

Fair enough. While Madge is their team's primary defender, Katniss is their star forward. And she's well aware that she should have scored at least two goals yesterday.

"Their goalie was a beast though," Katniss points out in her own defense, still basking in the glow of the sweet, cool earth underneath her and no longer having to run sprints to the point of almost puking. And she's not kidding—the opposing goalie yesterday had to have been almost six feet tall with limbs that went on for days. Although Katniss knows she still should have been able to put a couple in the back of the net on her.

"She wasn't _that_ good, Everdeen."

Katniss opens her eyes at the sound of the voice that is decidedly not Madge's.

It belongs to Peeta Mellark.

Their assistant coach. Who's currently standing in front of her with an eyebrow cocked.

Katniss scowls, even though she knows he's right.

Peeta graduated from their high school two years ago. He was a star soccer player himself, and went to an expensive private college two states away on a full scholarship. But he blew out his knee halfway through his freshman season, and even though he's still good— _very good_ —after his recovery, he physically can't play like he used to with his injury. And his college dropped his scholarship, forcing him back home to the local state college a town over. Which freed him up to help out Coach Abernathy and his supposedly star-studded girls' team this year.

Peeta's also gorgeous. Fit yet sturdy, with messy golden blond hair and serious blue eyes, dressed in his usual—soccer shorts and a fitted white t-shirt. And he has just enough height on Katniss that he feels slightly imposing as he stands over her. Especially with that smirk he's wearing on his lips.

Every single girl on the team has a crush on him.

But Katniss knows she's his favorite.

Katniss pulls herself up into a sitting position in his presence, sighing at the effort.

She catches Madge wiggle a knowing brow out of the corner of her eye, and keeps scowling because of it.

Madge has a theory, and it involves Peeta having his very own crush on Katniss. Which of course Katniss wants to hear none of, because it's stupid. Peeta's older. And hot. In college. With lots of college girls his own age.

Although sometimes when she catches him looking at her, kind of like he is now, she secretly wonders if Madge is right.

"What's up, Peeta?"

Katniss stares at him, nonchalantly, as she takes him in—his shirt clinging to his muscled upper body, his shorts hung low on his hips, and he's only wearing cleats and soccer socks pushed down around his ankles because he's too good for shin guards.

Peeta nods his head toward their head coach, who's grumpily picking up scattered orange cones and simultaneously yelling at a straggling sophomore teammate—Clove, a killer at midfield—to remember to actually bring her game to practice tomorrow. Ouch.

"Can you stick around? Abernathy asked me to work with you on a few things."

His voice is smooth and straight. But the crookedness of his lips as he asks makes it seem like he doesn't entirely mean all business.

And while all Katniss wants to do right now is limp home and shower and sit in the cool, sweet air conditioning while finishing off her Physics homework, she doesn't entirely mind sticking around for Peeta either.

Even if it's because she's apparently been voted Coach Abernathy's most in need of remedial training.

"Told you it was your oh-for-twelve," Madge says with a sly grin as she stands up.

It earns Madge her own look from Peeta.

"Trust me, Undersee, yesterday's debacle was a _team_ effort."

And Katniss lets herself crack a smile at Peeta taking Madge down a rung.

But as Madge walks away a free woman while Katniss is held behind, Peeta turns his eyes back to her, frowning.

"Don't look so pleased. You still should have scored at least two goals."

It's not exactly a scolding, but Katniss still feels guilty, and looks away, picking at a weed in the grass.

So she's not the only who noticed her less than stellar performance.

She hears him sigh.

"C'mon, Everdeen."

And when Katniss looks back up, Peeta's holding a hand out to her.

She raises her eyebrows skeptically.

"Get up. It'll only take a few minutes."

She exhales, feigning reluctance and lets Peeta pull her to her feet. His grip is strong. And his eyes don't leave hers.

It makes her heart flutter.

He takes just a few seconds too long to let go of her hand, keeping her lingering in front of him, before swallowing thickly.

"So. Let's get to work."

*****

"It's your hips. You're not using them correctly."

Katniss makes a face, turning around to him after taking another shot, lined up a few yards outside the goal box, which just missed over the top of the crossbar. Again.

"I'm not using my _hips_ correctly?"

Peeta chuckles, looking almost embarrassed.

"Just, humor me, okay?" he says, approaching her and the pile of soccer balls they've set up on the now-empty soccer field.

Peeta said she needed to work on her shooting form. Something was off, and he needed to pin point it. He's watched her take six different shots by now. Only two have gone in, and that's not acceptable—especially not on an empty goal.

"Just, uh, watch me first, okay?" he tells her, moving easily beside her, swiping a ball from the pile with his foot, kicking it around between his legs before setting it up where he wants it.

Katniss obliges and steps back.

"You're leaning back and opening up too much when you shoot. You need to remember to stay over the ball, keep your entire body focused on where you want it to go." As Peeta speaks, he's demonstrating for her, standing over the ball, his athletic legs bent slightly, his hands out for balance as he makes sure she's taking note of his stance.

Katniss nods, acknowledging him, too captivated to even feign indifference. She's more than happy to watch Peeta Mellark play soccer. It's when he's at his hottest. A mixture of toned muscles, enviable skill, and a look of contented determination on his face.

All things she notices when he lines up, takes his shot, and smoothly delivers the ball into the top left corner of the goal, hitting the net with speed and a gratifying swish.

Katniss probably should have been more focused on his form, instead of how _good_ he looks, when Peeta turns to face her with a satisfied grin.

"Got it?"

She nods along anyway, tucking a loose strand of hair that's escaped her braid behind her ear.

"Good," he tells her. "Try again then."

And as they switch positions, Katniss is suddenly even more self-conscious under Peeta's eyes.

But she sets up her shot anyway, reminding herself he's just her coach, simultaneously cursing and thanking Abernathy for making her stay late.

She makes contact with a pretty satisfying strike, sailing the ball high into the net this time. But when she turns back around, Peeta's scrunching his nose, shaking his head.

"What?" she asks, exasperatedly. It had gone in, what more could he want?

"I might have to show you."

_Oh._

Katniss gulps. And Peeta's looking at her, like he's asking silently for her permission, so she shrugs, as if she doesn't care. But her nerves are firing at a rate that makes her skin sting as Peeta encroaches on her personal space.

Peeta gestures, wordlessly telling her to take her position over the ball. And as she does, Peeta slips behind her. His hands place themselves firmly on her hips, settling themselves first, as if finding their way, before jerking her slightly.

She has to swallow a gasp.

"Like that," she hears his voice behind her, low and hot on her neck, once he's satisfied with her position.

If she didn't already know the field was deserted, save for her and Peeta, she'd have to look around, frantically making sure no one was watching them.

Who knows what someone might think.

"Ok, shoot," Peeta instructs, and she feels him withdraw, upset with herself for being disappointed when his hands leave her waist.

But she shakes her head lightly at herself, knocking away her ridiculous thoughts.

_Time to focus, Everdeen._

And sure enough, Katniss aligns herself carefully, keeping his form but her eyes on her target, and lets go of a kick that successfully sends a beautifully curved ball into the side of the net.

_Huh._

She spins around with a look of disbelief.

He's smirking, standing with his arms crossed, observing.

"Told you."

Katniss shakes her head at him, furrowing her brow.

"How'd you know that would work?"

Peeta shrugs.

"Kind of hard not to watch you play, Katniss. And when you watch someone enough, you learn their strengths and their weaknesses."

She studies him carefully, with his blue eyes trained on her, like he's trying to convey a secret meaning that he knows he can't say out loud.

_Again with the crazy thoughts._

"Try a few more, okay?"

And she does, focusing on tucking her hips over the ball just as he'd shown her until it becomes natural, and she's consistently placing her shots exactly where she wants them. After five in a row, Peeta stops her with a pleased look.

"Turns out you're a pretty good shot there, Everdeen."

She allows a smile.

"Thanks," she breathes.

And then he grins, kicking another soccer ball from the pile to her, jogging into a defensive position between her and the goal.

She stops it softly at her feet, her gaze following him. His lopsided half smile and the glint in his eyes taunt her as he bounces from foot to foot, awaiting her first touch.

"C'mon, let's see what you got."

One on one. Her and Peeta.

Katniss narrows her eyes, considering him. Their school's former golden boy. Her current assistant coach. Her pulse quickens, and she chews her bottom lip as she rests the ball under her foot.

She _does_ like a challenge.

And then she cuts the ball quickly with the outside of her foot, taking off in his direction.

She knows she has a great touch on the ball. And she's usually pretty confident in going up against any opponent. She dribbles toward Peeta confidently, watching the direction of his feet, shuffling back to get in good position for her, effortlessly keeping up with her as she cuts the opposite direction, only to immediately redirect back the other way, dragging her foot over the ball with ease, intending to spin around him.

But Peeta's too good for Katniss to get by him so simply. Better, obviously, than all of the girls she plays against, quick and sure-footed. And he doesn't back down, stepping right up to her to defend, and her back collides into his chest when she tries to maneuver around him. Peeta's solid, and at the collision, his hand grazes her hip again instinctively. It's innocent, really, any good defender knows how to sneak a hand on their opponent's body, if only to get a better read on her next move.

Except it doesn't feel innocent. Not with the heat of his fingers and the huff of his breath making her even warmer than she already is as she idles the ball at her foot, pressing further into him, her mind swirling as she tries to maintain possession under his pressure.

They stay at their practical standstill, Katniss keeping the ball just out of his reach, Peeta just containing her, until she bends further over the ball, allowing her backside to graze against his hips and he practically growls from behind her.

"All right, make your move already, Everdeen."

She's startled by his immediate reaction to her. As well as the effect he's having on her.

Because it's just soccer.

And you play soccer with your feet.

Not with your hips. And definitely not your hands.

But it's the touch of Peeta's fingers slipping under the exposed hem of her jersey, whether accidental or intentional, just skimming the hot bare skin of her waist that kicks her into action, and Katniss makes one quick cut to her left, even though she was leaning right. And maybe she's distracted him just enough that Peeta and steps too far to the right with her, caught just a half step behind and giving her the perfect play.

Really, the most humiliating.

The window of opportunity is only a split second, but Katniss capitalizes on it, pushing the ball with the heel of her foot right between his open legs, spinning to her left and breezing past Peeta, who comes up lame, knowing he's just been nutmegged. It allows Katniss to take control of the ball still rolling toward the goal and dump it lazily into the back of the net.

He's got his hands on his hips and a grimace on his face when she spins back around triumphantly.

"Well, that was fun," Katniss gloats.

"This is why I don't play co-ed," he mutters.

"Why, because you don't like getting beat by a girl?"

Peeta shakes his head at her, before retreating to the ball pile and sending another ball at her feet.

She accepts it, still waiting on her answer.

"No. Because I like it too much."

And then, without further explanation other than a mischievous glint in his eye, he nods at her.

"Again."

She grins.

*****

A few minutes later, they walk toward the gate allowing them to exit the field, Katniss with her team bag on her back and Peeta with the bag of soccer balls slung over his shoulder.

"You feel better about Saturday?" he asks, squinting his eyes against the early evening sunset.

Saturday is their first playoff game. They're favored, pretty heavily, but after yesterday's debacle, she's all too aware that anything could happen.

And she can't deny that she does feel better. He absolutely helped her. Even if they spent the last half of his mini tutorial goofing off with a probably too-touchy one on one session.

"Yeah," she nods, as he holds the gate open, letting her pass through before following her. "Yes," she corrects herself, suddenly nervous. "I, um, thank you."

She stands, watching as Peeta closes the gate behind him, pulling a key from his pocket to lock it with the padlock hanging open on the latch.

"Good," he says, turning his body halfway to face her as he gives the lock a tug to make sure it's secure.

"You're welcome. You, uh, well, you look better too."

Peeta gives her an uncharacteristically shy smile, looking down at his feet before pulling his eyes back up to her.

"You want to go to State next year, right?"

Katniss fights a blush, her heart rate picking up at the idea of Peeta knowing… _things_ about her.

"Hoping to," she nods in confirmation. "That's where you go, right?"

She asks even though she knows the answer. She knows things about Peeta Mellark too.

They've stopped their progress toward the parking lot entirely now, just standing and talking. And… _looking_ at one another.

Peeta smiles lightly, looking amused, since he must know she knows where he goes to school. "Yeah, Katniss, that's where I go."

Then he sighs, pausing as if contemplating something before he continues.

"Look, Abernathy didn't want to tell you, because he thought it'd freak you out if you knew, but I don't think it's fair not to say anything. State's girls' coach is going to be at the game on Saturday."

Katniss's eyes go wide.

He smiles at her surprised look.

"And I know for a fact that they're interested in you."

At this, Katniss furrows her brow momentarily ignoring what a huge deal it is that a college coach will be at their game—for her, instead more concerned with why she's receiving the information in the first place.

"So if Abernathy didn't want me to know, why are you telling me?"

She folds her arms across her chest, knowing her head coach is not one who likes when anyone goes against his orders. Hell, she did the pushups and crunches to prove it earlier. And that had just been because Glimmer had crossed a ball in differently than the set play he'd called from the sideline.

So, Peeta's probably going to take one on the chin if Coach Abernathy finds out he told her.

But he shrugs, his eyes softening with a knowing smile.

"Because if it were me, I'd want to know."

Katniss studies him carefully, ultimately agreeing that he's right. It's better to know now—at least she can prepare properly, even if it makes her anxious with the stakes now raised even higher than just a first round playoff game.

She gives him a grateful smile for it.

"Well, thank you."

Not knowing what else to say, and becoming incredibly nervous and uncomfortable around this older boy who's now just done two nice things for her—one of them not necessarily only because he's her coach—Katniss turns back around to continue leaving.

But Peeta doesn't let her slip away so easily.

"Hey," he calls softly, jogging to catch up to her, matching her pace once he does.

"You're going to be great, by the way. You're really good, Everdeen. Incredible, actually."

She rolls her eyes.

"You're just saying that to make yourself feel better because I nutmegged you."

She means it as lighthearted banter, but Peeta grabs her wrist in his hand, set on stopping her.

"No. I'm saying it because it's true." He shakes his head at her once. "And if you really want to play at the next level, then not only do you have to know that, you have to believe it."

Katniss exhales, looking down at her wrist in his hands until he does the same and drops it quietly, like it's not something he's allowed to have picked up in the first place.

"Sorry," he breathes.

She shakes her head. "It's fine. And I know I'm good, okay?"

At this, Peeta's expression eases.

"Good. Because I'm not going to tell you again."

She laughs.

And they continue walking, having reached the parking lot now, and she can tell Peeta's surveying it, confused.

"Hey wait, where's your car?"

Katniss shrugs, like it's no big deal. "In the shop. I'm walking tonight."

Really, her beat up, fifteen-year-old Civic needs to go to the shop for a new brakes, but she has to wait until her mom's next pay day, so it's currently sitting in her garage and not some auto body shop's. But Peeta doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah, you're not walking."

As if in challenge, Katniss continues on her path, as it starts to diverge for the sidewalk, the opposite direction of where Peeta's car is parked twenty yards away.

She hears Peeta's voice behind her, sounding annoyed.

"Everdeen, I'm not kidding. You're letting me take you home."

It almost sounds like an order.

And Katniss isn't strong enough to make him ask a third time.

*****

Her house is less than a mile away from the high school, but sitting in the front seat of Peeta's Jeep Cherokee, it still feels like they're breaking the rules.

Although if she's being honest, they probably started at least _bending_ those rules when he put his hands on her hips back on the soccer field.

"Do you like it there? At State?" Katniss asks him, making conversation just to fill the air with something other than an undeniable tension, soft classic rock music on the radio, and her occasional direction to _turn left_ or _stay straight_ as they roll through the side streets of her neighborhood.

Peeta chuckles, glancing at her quickly before refocusing on the road.

"Well, it's a hell of a lot different than U of Panem. But yeah, I like it. It's fun. The guys on the club team are great, too. You ever been?"

She shakes her head.

"No."

"You should come. I can show you around."

His offer comes easily, and it scares her, because now it feels like she's talking to Peeta and not her assistant coach. And Peeta is a reality, whereas that crush on her coach is just a silly school girl fantasy.

She's silent for a moment, until she has to direct him to turn onto her street, telling him her house is fifth on the right, and Peeta pulls into her driveway before she's ready for it.

But he puts the car in park, not looking particularly eager to let her go just yet himself, and turns to her with a raised eyebrow. Katniss is suddenly very grateful her mother's on third shift at the hospital and Prim's probably holed up in her bedroom far too interested in her IPad to notice Peeta's idling engine in the driveway.

She smiles skeptically.

"And if I did. What would we do?"

Peeta chuckles, running a hand across the back of his neck with a wary look.

"That's a dangerous question, Everdeen."

Emboldened, she quirks her lips.

"Why?"

He swallows. And then averts his gaze toward her house, the windows dark save for one on the second floor, Prim's bedroom window.

"You know I'm technically not your coach, right? Haymitch just pays me under the table to help out." Peeta's voice is low. And he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, almost anxiously.

She narrows her eyes, adjusting her position in her seat to face him.

"What are you saying?"

And Peeta looks at her with the bluest, strongest eyes that make her heart stop.

"I'm saying that there's technically nothing to stop me from asking you out."

It's all she can do to stop her jaw from dropping.

But there's absolutely nothing she can do to keep her heart jumping into her throat.

And she's only able to keep his gaze for another beat before having to drop her eyes, managing to get out a soft laugh.

"Abernathy would kill you," she warns playfully, her heart racing a mile a minute and faster still when she looks back up at him and sees the amusement on his face.

"And me," she adds for dramatic effect.

He'd probably kill both of them just for having this conversation.

Peeta smirks.

"That's not exactly a _no_ , Everdeen."

And a rush of warmth runs through her, her cheeks surely a furious shade of red, unable to comprehend exactly what is happening between them, but thinking that Peeta Mellark might really be asking her out.

"I haven't _exactly_ heard a real question," Katniss retorts, proud of the bite in her voice and her ability not to completely melt into a puddle right here in the front seat of his car. But even with the soft music playing and the sound of the engine running, Katniss can hear her own heart beating against her chest.

Peeta grins a knowing grin, taking his time before responding.

"Fair enough. So. What are you doing…oh, I don't know, a month from now then?"

He's looking at her like he knows something she doesn't, but it just makes her confused. Because who cares what she's doing a _month_ from now?

She gives him a skeptical look.

"What?"

Peeta laughs.

"I want to know what you're doing…" and he pauses in order to pull his phone from his pocket, consulting his calendar before continuing his strange question, "say, Saturday, November 14th?"

Katniss sighs, completely in the dark as to where he's going with this.

"I have absolutely no idea."

Peeta's eyes are patient but his lips upturn pointedly.

"But, you won't be playing soccer, right?"

Katniss knows the girls' soccer playoff schedule like the back of her hand. And even if they make it all the way to States, as she plans to, the championship game is scheduled for the prior weekend.

_Oh._

Peeta grins, knowing Katniss finally understands what he's implying.

She grins too.

"No. I won't be playing soccer."

Because their season's over. And Peeta won't be her coach. Hell, by then, technically, Abernathy won't be her coach.

"Well then Everdeen, looks like you'll be free to go out on a date with me."

Without having to worry about either of their impending deaths.

"Looks like it," she tells him simply, but unable to contain her smile.

And Peeta looks at her with a shy, almost nervous smile, and it makes her stomach flip-flop. Because even though asking her out seemed to come naturally to him, his eyes are earnest and he seems relieved. Like he thought Katniss might have said no.

Peeta narrows his eyes at her playfully.

"So it's a date?"

She nods, still smiling.

"It's a date."

And Peeta exhales a chuckle at her response, before asking her one last question.

"And it's okay if we maybe don't tell anyone about this for the time being?"

Katniss smirks, more than happy to keep tonight to themselves. And certainly understanding why they should. At least for a little while longer.

But that doesn't mean they can't do _tonight_ again.

"Only if you promise to tell Abernathy you think you still need to work with me one on one a few more times."

She watches Peeta's eyes darken as they take her in, appreciatively.

"I like the way you think, Everdeen."


End file.
